


Quarantine

by RedgraveQueen



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 10,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23430169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedgraveQueen/pseuds/RedgraveQueen
Summary: What if you have no idea of who you are? Where you come from?Do you really have a place in this world that is changing at an ever increasing pace?The recent lockdown is having absolutely no impact on Bernie. She can’t remember the last time she ventured out of her house, save for the occasional trips to supermarket to collect ready meals and bottles of scotch.For Serena, it’s a very different story. After being called back into work; to help deal with the onslaught of Covid-19 patients, her life is quickly descending into chaos.With the absence of the woman she loves by her side, she’s not sure it’s a chaos she’s capable of navigating.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Comments: 75
Kudos: 299





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> ((Just to clarify- the cottage Bernie is in has nothing to do with the cottage mentioned on Holby; just somewhere new she selected to live when she returned to England...))

It is dark and cold in Bernie’s cottage. A black wind is rattling the faulty lock on the door and sending the trees that line the driveway into a chaotic dance. She leans closer to the widow pane, straining her neck to see over the fields but the storm is becoming too dense. The glass is damp now, droplets beginning to congregate in the cobwebs that adorn the corners of the windowsill. She really must do something about them, she decides with a sigh. 

She’s so low on energy and motivation; even the smallest of tasks present as a mountain in front of her. Usually, she turns away and decides she’ll save it for another time- when she’s feeling better. 

Instead, she limps into the kitchen- employing her stick for support and searches for the bottle of scotch that is calling to her from somewhere amongst the mess on the kitchen side. She takes the first glass in one go but vows the take the subsequent few slower. Who knows when she’ll next get out to the shops. 

She barely turns on the television that sits Idly in the corner of the cluttered sitting room but she has recently taking to watching the news headlines at six. More talk about covid 19. It’s strange and worrying and causes her to consider her occasional cough. Probably due to the damp, she rationalises. 

It’s extremely unsettling, looking into a world you have no place in. Trying to imagine where you could possibly fit; when you have absolutely no memory of the life that came before stumbling out of a hospital at the other side of the world and following your nose back to England- with the hope of finding the identity you’d lost somewhere along the way. 

Her quest hadn’t worked and to this day, Bernie’s memory remains blank; the only clues to who she once was scribed nearly into a letter that she was guarding closely to her body when they found her. Her only possession. Her only means of identification and It states her only her first name. 

It’s a love letter, from a woman who claimed to be longing for her- from thousands of miles away. 

Who are you, serena? 

She pleads silently, unfolding the worn paper once again. 

Why couldn’t we be together, if we loved as deeply as you say? 

She feels her brow becoming heavy as her mind becomes cluttered with questions that offer no lead, no information, no way of finding the answers she craves so desperately. 

She switches the TV off and drains her glass.


	2. Onslaught

When Serena Campbell is needed front line on A&E- you know it’s a bad day. 

Yesterday day marked a year since the day she retired, after years of service as a well respected surgeon. Seven days ago; marked the day she received an email to return to work to help deal with the strain on the NHS due to the ever increasing stream of patients presenting symptoms of Covid-19. She’d never known anything like it in her life. 

Unprecedented time’s: told the news headlines that she was now desperately trying to avoid. She didn’t need to hear it from clueless News reporters, twisting the truth and throwing out theories. She was seeing the atrocity unfold before her very eyes. 

Her heart drops when she notices the times on her watch face. Only 5PM? She’s weary, eyes heavy, legs aching. 

In all of her time working in a hospital (including her time in A+E as a Junior doctor) she’d never known it to be this busy. 

She can’t help but think there must be some better way to organise this chaos. Can’t help thinking about a woman who she’s certain would have the ability to do just that. A woman who’d right now, take her off into a side room and hold her close. Calm her nerves; reassure her that everything would be just fine if she just held her nerve. 

She hears her voice clear as day as she pulls the crumpled little photograph from her pocket. There she is. Her beautiful, brave Berenice. 

The woman who’d opened her heart in a way she didn’t think possible. The woman she’d loved more than words but been too cowardly to admit. The woman she’d let go; knowing she deserved better. The woman she’d unwittingly sent back to a war zone to be destroyed in the worst possible way. 

Sobs escape her body as she slams the toilet door shut; pressing her back against it, desperate to ground herself, to feel something other than the wretched pain and regret that surges through her like some violent, destructive drug.


	3. Chapter 3

Gunshots. Screaming. Rubble.   
She’s trapped and she can taste dust in her mouth. There’s a surging pain in here left knee but she can feel the concrete becoming loose, freeing her.

‘Shit’ is the first word that escapes Bernie’s dry lips as wakes from yet another nightmare. Her whole body jars as she forces herself into a sitting position and throws the duvet from herself; drawing in a sharp breath. 

The same re-occurring dream haunts her sleeping hours in endless variations, night after night; unless she’s managed to drown her subconsciousness in enough whiskey. she’s become convinced now that they must be representative of some former truth. 

In the past, she’d become caught up in a disaster, in a foreign land. In the dream she often looks down to see army fatigues. 

Could that have been a reality? She peers into the mirror by her bed, clutching her still racing heart. She traces her fingers over rough, bony shoulders. Her ribs are visible through her dark vest, if she looks hard enough. She runs her hands through her mass of blonde curls. 

Could she really have been a soldier? 

If so... what happened to her?   
Didn’t anyone notice she was gone? 

She reaches for the letter that is now resting on her bedside table. 

She often hears different voice, in those dark, confusing dreams. A voice that doesn’t belong on that fraught battle field. The voice calls out to her, frantically, from somewhere far away. But other noises always grow and drown her out or she wakes, sweating and exhausted from a night of straining her closed eyes and pushing to the very depths of her mind to find the face that matches the voice. 

Frustrated that once again, she’s failed.


	4. Chapter 4

Serena pours herself a large glass of Shiraz and carries it outside with her. A purple violet brushes against her leg as she lowers herself into a garden chair, pulling her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. There’s a slight chill to the air now. 

Every bit of this garden was created by Bernie’s design. set up in a different garden than the one in Bernie’s mind since Serena had moved some 50 miles from Holby now; to a house by the coast. But she’d tried hard to make the landscape resemble that in the plan; so in death, Bernie could finally have the garden she’d dreamed of. Such a cruel notion, she decides. 

She wipes a tear from her eye as she imagines her lover siting beside her. On the dark, hardwood patio, surrounded by pot plants she’d never heard of before reading the journal. Now, she’s taken gardening up as a hobby and is surprising herself at how much she was enjoying it. She’s even crafted herself a little herb garden on her kitchen windowsill. 

She brings her glass to her lips and takes a large, long sip. She’s off work for the next two days and although she feels relieved, there’s an ever present sense of uneasiness now. 

She wonders how many bottles of wine she has left in the fridge. how else will she spend her time whilst she’s confined to the house? 

Funny, she’s always loved a lazy day... she’s craved them in the past; while on busy shifts or rallying around after her family. 

She feels almost claustrophobic now. Her sizey garden: beginning to feel rather small. 

She decides she’ll make the most of the last of the sunshine and wanders back inside in search of her little collier, Bonnie. 

“Come on girl, let’s get out of here for a while”.

The dog looks up at her, knowingly, eyes shining as she slips her lead over her fluffy brown head. She feels lucky to have a companion throughout this, even if she is canine. 

Serena decides they’ll take the path down by the canal, only mere minutes from her home. It’s extremely peaceful- not another living being in sight. She was dreading how angry she’d get if she was to see groups of youths hanging out on the banking. 

Instead, she finds the experience incredibly tranquil, ambling along the rocky tow path; Bonnie trotting happily by her side; looking up occasionally, as if checking on her owner, making her smile. 

She stops to watch some ducks, cruising along the serene water before her. At that moment, a sense of calm has descended over the world... hers at least. The national catastrophe loosing some volume for a while. 

The pain of loss in her heart never lessons though. Never lets up. In fact, moments like this only amplify it, after the few seconds of calm have passed. There should be someone here by her side, linking her arm, admiring the tranquility. 

She loved nature, did Bernie. 

“Come on Bonnie. That’s enough now...” 

She tugs on the lead slightly and turns around.


	5. Chapter 5

The delightful smell of barbecue smoke filters in through Bernie’s window; making her hungry. It’s a warm, May afternoon and the neighbours are out in their garden, playing music, chatting, laughing. 

Bernie enjoys listening to it. Somehow, it makes her feel less alone. 

She begins to sift through the mess on the kitchen work top. She really must get this place in order, she tells herself. 

Ah, a pot noodle. Bonus! She’d thought she’d run out. 

She flicks the switch on the kettle then pours herself a glass of scotch. 

Today- she ventured to the local library with the intention of accessing the internet; perhaps searching some military files? Surely, if she’d gone missing in action- it would have been reported somewhere. Knowing her first name would perhaps narrow the search? She decides now that it would probably be unlikely. There will be thousands of reports, thousands of stories. 

Her trip had been in vain anyway. The library was firmly boarded up with a sign warning about social distancing and Coronavirus pasted across the door. Bernie had been taken a back somewhat. It must be getting serious. Her walk back through the village had her feeling like she was living through an apocalypse; not another living being in sight. It made her somewhat uneasy and she’s spent the rest of the day on edge; doing nothing much of anything but pacing around her cottage. 

She looks up from stirring her piping hot noodles and smiles. A cat has taken to visiting her lately; hanging around by her door; sneaking in through gaps when the windows are open. Admittedly- she leaves them open on purpose now. The grey figure slinks it’s way through her pot plants on the windowsill and navigates the kitchen worktop, before jumping off effortlessly. It snakes around her legs now, purring as she reaches down to stroke it. 

Suddenly; the word doesn’t feel quite so frightening. She opens up the patio door and carries her dinner outside, the cat following. The sun is warm and bright and air is still. The neighbours have quietened and she relaxes as she lowers herself onto the grass. 

In that moment, she decides changes have to be made. She must venture out more, when this virus has died down... no longer live as a recluse. She will organise her clutter, perhaps start to eat more healthily and consider some exercise; if her body allows. Then she’ll have more energy to do the other things, she concludes. Most importantly- she will do all she can to uncover her lost identity; reclaim her life.


	6. Chapter 6

“I still can’t help thinking there’s something we don’t know about.. something about mums death strikes me as so odd” 

Cameron is on the phone again. 

“The way Alex tells it... it’s different from what those soldiers said...”

“Cam” 

Serena endeavours to keep her voice even. 

“That women is a bloody lunatic”

Surely he can hear the angst in her voice now.

“She talks nonsense, changes the truth to fit her narrative... tells you what she wants you to believe, not what really happened.”

She’s getting increasingly angry now, angry that she’s still messing with Cameron’s head. Admittedly, Jealous that bernie spent the last few months of her life with her. Still furious that she lied about Bernie’s feelings.

“Cameron I’m a bit caught up. Wipe Alex from your mind. Just remember how brave your mother was. Don’t think about the end...” 

She fobs him off. She spent the best part of a year obsessing over what her lover must have endured, searching for answers- desperate to find a glimmer of hope. Could there have been some mistake? Could the body have actually belonged to someone else? 

It had nearly driven her to insanity and so she’d had no choice but to bring it to a close. 

She misses Bernie every second of every day. 

Sure- she misses her daughter terribly, but she should be off, living her own life (something that saddens her greatly- seeing as her young life was so cruelly snatched away). But Bernie should have been here, with her. Sharing her retirement, sharing her life. Bernie was her soul mate. A person she’d loved in a way that she’d never imagined possible. In the past, that had sometimes provided her with a massive sense of guilt... she’d spent a lot of time trying to deny it- forcing Elinor to the forefront of her mind. But she’d come to accept it. Elinor was a wild soul. She loved her daughter deeply but had always struggled with their relationship; especially after the divorce. Elinor had always been a Daddy’s girl... Edward would call her his ‘mini me’. It was different with Bernie. They understood each other in such a special, beautiful way.Their connection was so deep it still makes her chest hurt. 

She drains her glass in one mouthful, making herself shudder. She knows she should go easy on the wine; she can’t handle it in the way she used to and she certainly doesn’t want to be creating a hangover. 

Today, she’s endured one of the toughest shifts of her medical career. Coronavirus is sweeping the hospital now, totally indiscriminate of who it infects, who’s lives it disrupts, halts, takes away- sometimes. She traces an indent on the bridge of her nose and winces. Wearing PPE all day is taking it’s toll and she’s exhausted from the long hours, the emotional strain. She wonders how much longer she can keep it up. 

Still, she’s proud of herself. Returning to work: especially at such a crucial time has certainly affected her life in a positive way. It’s given her a purpose; allowed her feel useful again. 

Also... it’s giving her the distraction she so desperately needs. 

She’s back at it tomorrow and the day after. She decides she’ll turn in for the night but not before another glass of red, just to make sure she’s tired enough for sleep. Bonnie followers her into the kitchen, ambling around near her ankles, nearly causing an accident. 

“You’re unsettled of late too, aren’t you girl,” 

She says softly, reaching down to stroke her dog. When she stands, she’s met by the most incredible sunset, providing an incredible show beyond the French doors that lead out on to the patio. She carries her glass over, Bonnie at her heel, and presses her face against the glass. 

Something is stirring in her stomach. Something she’s all together unsure of allowing herself to feel. She’s been trying to suppress it for the past hour, trying to ignore it. 

It’s persistent. 

Could Cameron be right? Was there something off about the logistics of his mother’s death?


	7. Chapter 7

Bernie shifts in her seat uncomfortably. She turns the phone around in her hands, getting a feel for it. She has purchased herself an iPhone. Perhaps it’s about time I dragged myself in 21st century living; she tells herself; wondering whether she had one in the life that came before this one. She’s supposes she would have had reason to back then... people to stay in contact with. 

Who’d been top of the list? Was it this Serena? She rests her head on her outstretched arms. That name drags her under, making her feel as if she had to gag for air. She has no idea who this woman is. No picture, no real memory. Just a feeling that she can’t explain, can’t work out. 

There isn’t much real feeling in her life at all; other than that futile sort of longing for a woman she can’t even fathom in her mind. But some how, it is that tenuous connection to her former self that keeps her going. 

She’d bought this phone so that she could access the internet. The smarmy, barely out of school boy she’d spoken to her on the phone told her it came as part of the package and that she’d be able to access it immediately, easily once she’d keyed in a few details. Details that on the most part- she knew she’d have to make up. 

Three hours later- she finds herself still tasking with the mystery they called ‘4G’. The little symbol appearing sometimes, in the top right hand corner of her screen as she moves around her home searching for signal but usually disappears almost as quickly as it came. She’s getting close to giving up, deciding that modern technology is in fact a load of total rubbish when she‘s disturbed by something crashing against the window. 

The cat jumped with too much velocity- lost her footing and fell back down. 

Bernie stands up too quickly and sighs as she reaches down to rub her lower back. The pains are getting worse. Grabs hold of the painkillers in her bag- taking a couple before attempting to go any further- swallowing water in the same way she does air. 

She’s relieved to find that the rumour is true- cats always land on their feet. She smiles as the black figure snakes around her legs. She squats down, but she’s more precautious this time, holding onto the wooden fence as she does so, taking it slowly. 

“I’ve not seen you for a while! I thought you’d disappeared!” 

She used to feel silly for talking to a cat but now doesn’t think twice about it. It’s one of the only interactions she experiences. 

She figures the cat needs feeding and luckily had decided a box of cat food qualifies as essential shopping. As she stands, she feels the bulk in her pocket and impulsively takes out her phone. 

The signal is full. The internet symbol prevailing in the corner. Cat food momentarily forgotten, she takes a few steps forward and sinks back down onto the grass. She cradles the device in her hands for a minute, considering her next move. Does she really want to do this? 

She opens up the icon labelled ‘safari’. As she expected- it gives her the opportunity to search key words, sentences, questions. 

‘British soldier missing in action” 

There are thousands of results. 

‘Female soldier- Bernie- missing in action’.

These results are rather more refined and they make her feel sick. There, at the top of the screen, is a picture of herself.

She’s called Bernie Wolfe, she learns. She went missing after an explosion at an airport hospital. She was working overseas after returning to service after years off. Why did she do that? Why return after retirement? She asks herself. 

She continues to scroll through article after article, her blood running cold, her fingers gripping on to the phone as if they’re gripping a person; holding together the fragments of a life, knowing if she lets go they will slip away again. 

‘Body of MIA British soldier- Bernie Wolfe- found’. 

Her world begins to spin. She tosses the phone to her side, grappling at herself, needing to feel the heat of her skin. 

Is she real? Dead? A ghost? A memory? 

No. She decides as her fingers trace bruise that occurred after falling into the table the previous evening, courtesy of too much scotch. 

If you can feel pain- you’re real. 

So how the hell had they discovered her body? Is that why nobody was looking for her? Why this Serena had let it lie? Because they believed she is in fact dead? 

She thrusts the phone into her pocket, traveling back inside as quickly as her legs will allow, letting the cat follow her; shutting the door behind them. She shuts the windows too. 

She feels as if her bubble has burst. As if the tiny corner of the world that she has created for herself has suddenly descended into chaos. 

She peers at herself in the mirror she’s hung in the hallway. Albeit, the woman in the picture looks stronger, healthier... but the woman is unmistakably her. She goes into the kitchen and pours herself a large drink. Then another. And another, repeatedly until the sharp, jagged edges of her mind behind to soften, blur. Then; when she’s suitably sedate; she picks up the phone again. 

She’s a mother? A surgeon? She looks down at her hands; considering if they could have ever been capable of such wonders. 

There’s an address. A hospital she worked at between her stints in the army. Holby city.

When she sleeps, there are no dreams, just a vast, dense blackness. In the hours towards morning, colours and shapes start to appear. Images forming at random; too bright to make out; too far away. 

When she wakes up, tears stream down her burning hot cheeks. She saw her. She saw her face; if even for only a second. She saw her Serena.


	8. Chapter 8

Serena has had what she would once describe as ‘an arse of a shift’. She relishes in the feeling of the fresh air on her skin as she removes her PPE and her scrubs, waiting a moment before she puts back on the clothes she came in- symbolising the end of her shift. Her freedom. 

Right now- she wants nothing more in the world than to be in her pyjamas on the sofa- a large Shiraz in her hand and Bonnie on her lap. She decides with a half smile that that is her evening plan. 

When she arrives home, the dog is waiting for her in the window. She jumps up when the car pulls into the drive; her tail wagging wildly. She loves being greeted like this. She only wishes there was a human waiting for her too- with her arms open, a smile on her face. One specific human. She isnt interested in dating anybody else. Nobody would ever live up to her Bernie and she wouldn’t want them too. 

As usual her cottage is completely silent. Its restful at first but gradually the quiet becomes the non- sound of somebody missing. She lays back on the sofa, trying to lean into the solitude- to embrace the peace around her. She enjoys the little sounds that break through the quiet once she’s still; the slight ticking off the clock- the dog pottering around on the wooden floor. 

The spell is broken abruptly by the sound of her phone buzzing loudly on the coffee table. she spays her hand out to the right without bothering to lift up her head. It will be Jason. She can’t be bothered right now... exhaustion has fallen over her like a heavy blanket. She’ll ring him back in an hour- after she’s had a nap. 

The buzzing begins again. 

“Bloody hell’,

she mutters, pulling herself to a sitting position. She’s surprised when she retrieves the phone from the coffee table. 

“Jac Naylor?”

She speaks out loud. 

She can’t remember the last time she had a call from the icy faced consultant. They had been colleagues for years and had gotten on well, on the most part. She’d even go as far as saying they’d become something close to friends. But not the sort of friend you’d call on a whim at 8:30 on a Friday evening. Whatever it is that she wants, Serena isn’t ready for it. She ends the call then groans when the buzzing starts up again. She supposes it must be important so she gives

“Hello? Jac?”

“Hi Serena.” 

Came the blunt reply. 

“Are you home?” 

The growing sense of unease in her stomach is starting to borderline on unbearable. 

“Yes. What is it Jac?” 

She endeavours to keep her voice even but is finding it a real struggle. There is an awkward sort of pause, before the other woman speaks again. 

“Something decidedly odd has happened today. I’d just finished a long shift in the ICU... when I took a call. From someone claiming to be... Bernie Wolfe.”

Serena gets the sensation of falling. Of the blood in her body curdling, heat rising from her toes to the top of her head. 

“What the hell??” 

It’s more of a croak. The fleeing moment of pointless hope slips away. 

“Someone is impersonating my... Bernie? Why would they do that?” 

She’s aware she sounds pathetic but at this point, doesn’t give a jot what people think of her. 

“It was really strange serena. She was talking about an accident... a mistake. Spouting all sorts of crazy shit... how she’s returned to England- lost her memory... or marbles or something. Saying she lives in a cottage” 

Serena is finding it hard to comprehend what she’s hearing. 

“It was weird though... it really... I don’t know... It sounded like her. Anyway. Whoever it was, asked me to give you this number...” 

She grabs a pen and tears a strip of paper from the magazine by her feet. Whoever this is- she is going to find out. And she is going to make sure they suffer for their cruel, callous actions. One name sticks in her mind, long after the phone call had ended. Alex Dawson. She’s the only person she’d imagine to be capable of this. 

It takes two more glasses off Shiraz before she gains to courage to key the numbers into her IPhone.


	9. Chapter 9

“What the fucking hell are you playing at?” 

Comes the voice at the other end of the line. 

Bernie winces and considers hanging up the phone. But there is something in the sharp, angry voice that makes her stay. Something familiar. 

“Hello?” 

“Alex Dawson...?? It’s you Isnt it?.. you nasty..”

Her heart is beating ten to the dozen as her body floods with unease and confusion. Her throat is dry; she knows her voice will be faint. She knows she has to try anyway, as a moment of realisation hits her; like a lightbulb being switched on from the inside. 

“No... who?? Are you.... Serena?” 

There is a silence.

“Who is this?”

The woman repeats. Her voice is hoarse now too. 

“My name is Bernie Wolfe... I didn’t know that,  
Until I found myself on the internet. I went missing in action? (She chooses to evade the bit about her body being found mashed up in an airport hospital at the other side of the world, because quite frankly she can’t understand that information herself so feels unable to explain it to anyone else.) I have amnesia. I don’t know anything about Bernie Wolfe... I think I have a letter from you?” 

She’s aware she isn’t talking very coherently, spilling words, trying to get her point across as clearly as she can; while her body shakes with anxiety. 

She waits for what feels like an age, before hearing a strange sound; almost like the strangled sob of an animal that’s been caught in a trap. Then a bleep. The call has ended. 

“Serena???” 

She calls pointlessly down the empty line.

Nothing. 

She swears and throws the phone in frustration. She has failed. Missed her chance. If only she could have articulated her point more clearly; made herself heard. Instead; she most had most probably sounded like a lunatic. 

Who’s Alex Dawson? That name rings no metaphorical bells... evokes no feelings

That voice has triggered something though. Not a memory but a feeling. It was Serena; she is almost certain. Why is she so angry? Because Bernie Wolfe is supposed to be dead... she checks herself. What she wants more than anything else in the world is to pick up her phone and redial that number. To hear it again... even if she’s angry. To feel close to the only person she has any sense of. 

She feels lonely. Cold. Empty. 

Until the cat jumps up into her knee, purring, content; as if nothing is wrong in the world. 

She talks to her, imparting everything that’s on her mind, as she smoothes her hand over her sleek black fur.

She tries to read, but her eyes are heavy. Her head is thumping now from the trials of the day. She slips off her clothes and crawls under the duvet, encouraging the cat to lie down next to her. Momentarily, she feels guilty; perhaps her owners are worried about her? That’s if she has any, she seems to spend much of her time hanging around Bernie’s cottage- at all hours. Anyway, the cat came in willingly, it’s not as if she’s stolen her. She feels much better for having another living being beside her and relaxes slightly as she watches the creature’s chest rising and falling; hearing her purr softly. 

Just as she begins to drop off, she’s disturbed by something, making her jump violently. It takes her a few seconds to emerge from that ‘half dream’ state and make sense of the world around her. It’s her... 

“SHIT” 

it’s the phone. She swings her legs out of bed, ignoring the pain that surges through them and legs it over to the dressing table. She catches it on its last ring. 

“Hello?” She murmurs breathlessly down the crackly line. 

No voice comes but shallow breathing tells her that someone is there. 

“Serena? Is that you? I’m sorry I didn’t make much sense earlier..” 

She’s desperate to find the right words; to make Serena stay on the line; to find some answers. 

“Bern?” 

The words come out as a whisper. 

“Bernie... is that really you? Are you really.... there...Alive?”

“Yes” 

She doesn’t know what else to say. Anything she does say will be barely recognisable over the sobs of the other woman. Are these tears of pain and love? She hopes so, though guilt surges through her insides. 

“Don’t cry... “ 

What a pathetic thing to say she decides, when tears are streaming down her hot cheeks. 

“Bernie... sweetheart? I can’t believe this is real. Surely this can’t be real?”

There’s another pause before:

“ Send me a picture of you?” 

Her voice is softer now. 

“Please... don’t hang up!”

Bernie pleads, pressing the phone to her ear, as if clinging to the woman will stop her from slipping away again. 

“It’s alright.... I’ll ring you back. Just send me a picture. I need to see that you’re real. I’m sorry darling, please... just do this for me?”

Her words are slow and are punctuated by heavy sobs. 

Bernie checks herself in the mirror as the line goes dead. She looks pale and thin, her cheek bones resemble the poles of a collapsed tent. But there is colour in her face, in account of the phone call and her hair is passable once she’s run her fingers through it. 

Nevertheless, she feels sick as she lifts the camera to face level. She reaches over and switches on the nightlight, turning the harsh flash off the camera. She snaps several; not quite knowing what to do with her face. Is a smile appropriate? She wants to smile at Serena, so much. She wants to feel the emotion behind a smile but she’s frightened. Muddled. She looks into the camera once again, allowing the corners of her mouth to turn upwards and endeavouring to brighten her eyes; avoiding a fake, pantomime grin. She decides she’ll never be happy with the outcome, so selects one and sends it before she has time to change her mind.


	10. Chapter 10

Serena’s hands shake as she picks up her makeup brush. She’s sure another two wrinkles have sprung up over night. 

Bernie has been alive all of this time. She still can’t make sense of it; come to terms with it. While she’s been pining and grieving for the love of her life, she’s been out there alone, confused, clearly as depressed as she is. 

A familiar sense of self loathing rises up in her. Surely she should have known; read further into the story of her ‘death’. Cameron knew there was something not right... he was on the phone only the other day, spouting his conspiracy theories and she’d dismissed him. 

Cameron. Shit. She can’t tell him yet, won’t, until she’s seen Bernie in the flesh, until she’s talked it over with her. 

Despair at the thought of time lost turns into anger. All directed at the person looking back at her as she gazes hopelessly in the mirror. She’s to blame; entirely; she tells herself. If she’d never made that ridiculous blunder, never driven Bernie away then she’d never have gone back to that war zone. She’d have settled down with her, whether that had been in Nairobi or England. They’d just failed massively at communication; and she’d fucked it all up with impatience.

The anger becomes so hot that it boils away, leaving a strange sense of calm and clarity. 

This is it. She’s being handed a second chance. This is what she’s craved for as long as she can remember. 

The pure euphoria that overcame her when Bernie’s picture flashed up on her phone; when she realised that what she was being lead to believe was in fact true; envelops her once again. 

She opens the picture again, for perhaps the thousandth time since it arrived in her inbox. She drinks it in. Bernie is almost unchanged, bar a scar on her left cheek and the fact that her cheekbones stand higher than they did before. She’s lost weight, there’s no disputing that.... weight that she probably couldn’t afford to loose in the first place. Her eyes remain deep brown pools of emotion, her half smile telling a story all by itself. 

Once again, tears are welling in the ducts of Serena’s eyes, as her heart swells to a place it once was, then is overtaken by longing. Longing to hold the woman she loves in her arms, to talk to her in person, to kiss her and make everything better. 

‘I must focus’ 

She picks up her brush once again and endeavours to cover the lines, combs her hair into something close to an acceptable style and smooths down her blouse. 

Today, she’s breaking lockdown restrictions, breaking the government rules and travelling half way across the country to meet up with Bernie Wolfe. She has to pinch herself at the thought. In just a few hours she might be able to... the possibilities stretching out in front of her are dizzying. Bernie Wolfe is alive and well. Everything she’s known for the last nine months has been false.... she feels almost as if she’s fallen victim to some horrid prank. And she’s never been more glad of anything in her life. It’s over. Her love is coming back to her. 

Her insides begin to swim as she steps onto the train. She feels almost as if she’s stepping out of one world and into another. It is almost empty, just one man sat a good few metres away from her. He turns towards her and glares, as if she’s infected with something and passing it onto him is imminent. Perhaps somehow he senses she’s spent the last two months working with Covid patients. She takes a few steps back and slumps into a seat by the window; which she opens as the train starts to move. A breeze drifts through it. It carries no scents but is somehow heavy with the weight of its own journey. The gap between her and the outside world has stirred something inside her. She feels almost as if she could reach trough it at any moment, reclaim the life she lost 9 months ago. As if she could reach through it and reclaim herself; that bold, fierce, surgeon. Not this dithering shell of a woman; too scared to nip to the loo incase her bags are pinched. 

She’s packed up a sort of food hamper for Bernie and hopes it won’t come across as patronising. She’s embarrassed at the fact she’s already delved into it and indulged in a packet of salt and vinegar crisps. She was to nervous too eat at breakfast but now, her stomach is rumbling uncontrollably. She considers swiping a chocolate bar too but runs her hands down her more than ample curves and thinks otherwise. 

She’s relieved when she finally steps off the sweltering train. The cold that engulfs her is quite welcome.


	11. Chapter 11

Bernie waits anxiously by the window that is for the first time since she moved in; shiny and clean. As is everything else in the now neatly organised kitchen. 

After Serena had received the picture; she called her straight back, her voice shaking. She’d asked her many questions that she had no answer for, had told her how sorry she was (for what Bernie couldn’t quite decipher)... how much she loved her. There was nothing much Bernie could say in response to this outpouring of affection. Did she love Serena too?

She’s sure she’s about to faint as a taxi slows to a hold outside her house. Every time she’s heard a vehicle for the past hour she’s ‘freaked out’ but she knows this time, is isn’t a false alarm. The sound of a door slamming, then flip flops beating across gravel fills her cottage. She takes a deep breath and considers a sip of Dutch courage. She’s glad she bought red wine. Serena likes red wine. 

Her hands slam against the work top as her head spins. How the hell did she know that? Why did she make that decision when she took a trip to Tesco yesterday? Are things starting to come back? 

She has no time to ponder on these ideas. 

There is a woman walking slowly towards her door. 

A familiar anxiety; (only amplified by about a thousand) floods her body. She can’t put this off. This is something she has to face head on.   
The woman is somehow even more beautiful in person.... Although tears leak from her eyes as her arms stretch out. Bernie allows her an awkward, momentary embrace before she pulls away. 

She doesn’t know this woman. She hoped she would with every fibre of her being. But she doesn’t. 

“Sorry...” 

The other woman speaks quietly. 

“I know I’m not supposed to touch you. Social distancing and all that. I just couldn’t resist.” 

She cups Bernie’s face in her hands. 

“My Bernie... I thought I’d lost you forever” 

She’s sobbing again and Bernie doesn’t know how to respond. She steps back, uncomfortable, playing with the a stray hair that irritates her forehead.


	12. Chapter 12

This is not how Serena expected their first meeting to commence. She knew Bernie had amnesia but somehow she expected some wonderful ‘hearts and flowers’ moment, when she saw her and it all came flooding back. She certainly experienced something magical... so why didn’t Bernie? They’re sat out in the garden (if it qualifies for that) as they’d arranged. There is a sleek, jet black cat at Bernie’s feet. She reaches down to stoke it occasionally and although she claimed it isn’t hers, there is a bowl of cat food behind her. 

“Another drink?” 

Bernie is slow and cautious with her words. 

“Yes sure. You remembered that I like Shiraz?”

In the hour that they’ve been making small talk, they’ve never mentioned Bernie’s memory. Saying that feels like a huge risk but it seems to open something up on Bernie and she flashes a half smile. 

“Yes. I don’t know how.... but I bought it instinctively. I was right then? Shiraz is your position?” 

Serena nods enthusiastically 

“Absolutely!” 

Despite her calm exterior; Fear is building up inside her. How can Bernie not remember her? She’s the love of her life... and apparently vice versa. She’s thought of her as her soul mate. Her other half. Surely she would feel that too? Living without her has been the most painful version of hell. But a suitable punishment for all she did, she decided. But now she’s getting her second chance and she already feels like the rug is being pulled from under her.

Bernie clearly notices her pensive look.

“I’m sorry, Serena. I wish I could remember what came before...” 

“Don’t be sorry. For anything, sweetheart. None of what happened was ever your fault. I’ll have another drink if you’re offering!” 

She forces a grin, trying to lighten the mood. 

Bernie emerges a few minutes later, laden with two glasses brimming with the glorious, deep red liquid. She’s visibly quite agitated and she spills some as she struggles over the door step. 

“Is your back troubling you?”

Serena asks gently. 

“No. I’m fine.” 

Bernie is abrupt but polite and forces a smile as she puts the drink in the other woman’s hand. The hand that Serena can’t help capturing in her own. 

“I missed you.” 

She raises her head slowly, meeting Bernie’s eyes and holding her gaze. 

“I really, really missed you”.


	13. Chapter 13

Bernie is terrified. If she’s in love with this woman; why haven’t her memories come flooding back? Why does this woman keep saying sorry? What has she done that’s so wrong? 

She can see why she’d be attracted to her. She’s beautiful, with neat silver hair and eyes that sparkle when she talks. She seems to be kind and is very affectionate... that’s frightening Bernie too. She doesn’t know what to do in return. Doesn’t know how to respond. 

“Another drink?”

Seems to be a safe option. 

Serena smiles. 

“Are you trying to get me drunk?”

Bernie blushes and the joke is wasted. 

It’s going cold now and Bernie shivers as she pulls her grey cardigan around her shoulders. The redness in her cheeks subsides and her pale complexion resumes. Without warning, the heavy grey cloud above them bursts, sending down torrents of ice cold water. Both women let out an involuntary sort of wail.

Bernie quickly collects up the items set out on the table in front of them and encourages Serena to follow her into the cottage- the cat dashing in the second the door is opened. 

“I know I’m not supposed to have you in the house... but we can’t stay out there!”

Serena nods and smiles, following Bernie through the dark hallway Into the front room. It’s disorganised but Bernie has made sure it’s as clean as possible. Serena thinks it is cozy. The atmosphere relaxes somewhat now they’re inside. They lower themselves onto the dark, slightly too soft arm chairs, careful to keep a distance. 

Chat starts to become easier as the wine continues to slip down, warming their insides. Neither of them mention the past or go into anything deeper than the news and weather. It’s odd.... To Bernie, it’s a first meeting with a beautiful, endearing stranger. To Serena, it’s reuniting with the love of her life. Her insides are swimming with emotion, relief, hope... love. She wants nothing more in the word than to wrap her arms around her, to envelop her, to press her face against her soft blonde curls, to kiss her flushed cheeks. 

It suddenly occurs to Bernie that it’s dark and wet and there’s no way in the word she can send this women off on her own to catch a train. Images of her spare bedroom, bed unmade, random possessions piled up in the corners and cringes. 

“You can take my bed tonight” 

She says slowly. I’ll go in the spare room...


	14. Chapter 14

Serena wakes up early. She had no choice but to leave the window open as the storm sent with it an almost unbearable heat and now the birds are chirping gayly. 

She’s in Bernie’s house. She’s in the same building as the woman who she’s longed for, who she’s cried over, who’s she’s contemplated ending her life for. 

And nothing is real. Nothing is right. Bernie has no idea who she is. What they had. What they collectively ruined. She brings her hand up to her face. As guilt consumes her. How dare she even contemplate blaming Bernie? 

But she chose Nairobi over her? Didn’t she? 

Perhaps she got that wrong. She decides.  
Perhaps if only she’d talked to her properly- explained the situation with bloody Jason... instead of just glossing over everything- telling Bernie what she thought she wanted to hear. 

But she so loved to see her happy. Thriving. Doing what she did best. 

She swings her legs out of bed and grabs her brush from her handbag. At first this serves as a distraction from the thoughts she wants so desperately to suppress but as she runs it through her now completely silver hair; she decides that grooming is most definitely needed before she comes fave to face with Bernie again. 

She hasn’t brought much makeup- but always carries some power and mascara in her bag and after a glance in her pocket mirror decides she looks passable. 

She ambles down the stairs slowly, careful not to make too much noise incase Bernie is still asleep. She hopes she is. She needs time to steel herself. She wonders if it’s appropriate to make herself a coffee in someone else’s cottage. 

This is Bernie. The woman she used to share everything with. Her problems... her laughs... her bed. 

Of course she can make a coffee.

She jumps at the sound of a door creaking. Footsteps. A face. 

“Good morning, Bern.” 

She says fondly, grabbing another cup from the draining board. 

“Want a coffee?”

“I don’t like coffee” 

Bernie says slowly. 

“But I’d gladly take a tea?”

She signals to the teabags on the worktop and smiles. 

Serena turns to face the window. The former Bernie drunk coffee all day, as if her life depended on it.


	15. Chapter 15

Serena turns around to face the window. Her head drops. 

“Are you alright?” 

Bernie asks tenuously, walking towards her slowly. 

Serena’s reply is muffled... almost like a sob. Bernie’s heart starts to race. Is she crying? Is it her fault? What can she do to help? 

She reaches out a hand and rests it on Serena’s shoulder whilst she searches for something to say. She’s so not used to dealing with other people at all, so their emotions feel entirely alien to her. 

“I’m alright”

Serena is careful in the delivery of her words, trying incredibly hard to make her voice even and steady. 

“Just a bit emotional... thinking of the past. I’ve missed you so much...” 

She turns around and cups Bernie’s face in her hands for a second, releasing her abruptly when she senses that she’s uncomfortable. 

“Sorry Bern... I’m getting carried away”

She reaches up and wipes a tear from her own, burning hot cheek. 

Despite herself, Bernie reaches forward once again, taking hold of Serena cautiously, pulling her gently towards her. Serena feels like her heart might explode as she leans in towards to woman she loves so intensely. 

The sun is rising outside, casting a gentle orange glow over the kitchen. The cat appears, wandering around them, waiting for breakfast. 

For the first time in as long as she can remember, Bernie feels something different from anxiety and confusion. She’s not entirely sure she can name this new, curious emotion but she doesn’t need to. She likes it and that’s all that matters at that moment. 

She feels warm. She feels safe. She feels loved.

And then, she pulls away. 

“I’m sorry Serena... I’m sorry I don’t remember.”

There’s a pause. 

“I better feed the cat...” 

Serena doesn’t speak for a while. She feels unable to. As if her body has been flooded with love and longing and sadness and her words are behind suffocated before they even reach her mouth. She pours herself a coffee and makes Bernie a cup of tea, handing them steaming cup to her with a forced smile. 

“Don’t say sorry, love. None of this is your fault. None of it. I should be the one saying sorry...”

She trails off, not knowing how far to go. 

“So I have a son, you say?”

Bernie changes the subject, not wanting to dwell on the issue that clearly fell between them in the past. 

They’d had the discussion last night and she still can’t quite get her head around it.

“He’d like to see you, when you feel up to it”

The other woman nods, taking a sip from her boiling cup. 

“Yes. Of course. In the future, when all of this Corona is over...” 

She realises how hypocritical she sounds; having had a practical stranger stay over the previous night. But something about Serena was different. Oddly familiar, despite having no recollection. The notion of a grown up child terrified her. She didn’t feel that she could be a mother. Surely she’d remember if she was? Surely she’d feel something for him?

“Shall we got for a walk?”

She blurts out, desperate to block out her thoughts, to improve the atmosphere, to get out of the now stuffy kitchen.


	16. Chapter 16

The women walk side by side on the narrow path through the forest- chatting quietly; arms brushing occasionally. For the first time since their meeting- Bernie feels completely relaxed. 

“I’m so, so glad to be with you again Bern. I feel so lucky. As if I’ve got a second chance” 

Serena speaks slowly, endeavouring to read Bernie’s facial expression for confirmation that she she should carry on. Bernie remains neutral though, concerning her and prompting her to stop her gushing. Why should Bernie feel the emotion too? She doesn’t bloody remember. 

Serena swallows hard and reminds herself that in lots of cases, Amnesia is temporary. Tries to ignore the fact that in some- it’s lifelong. 

“I’m glad you’re here too” 

Bernie says finally, after what feels like an age of silence.

“Your company is lovely. I’d gotten so sick of being alone.” 

Serena is unsure as to weather this is sincere but smiles all the same. 

There’s a chill to the air, even though it’s still summer. It’s still and quiet. The word is in lockdown. Her and Bernie are in essence breaking the law. And she doesn’t care. Every minute in this wonderful woman’s company makes her feel like the luckiest woman in the world. 

They stop for a moment and observe the brook running down by the side of them. The water seems impossibly clear and the gentle sound of it running over the rocks is hypnotic. 

“I’m sorry Serena” 

“What?”

Serena is taken a back. What on earth would bernie have to be sorry about? She’s done nothing wrong. Ever. 

“I’m sorry I don’t remember. I can only imagine how this is hurting you.... I wish I could. I really do...” 

Tears are welling between them and they close the gap, allowing their shoulders to touch, their heads to fall against each other. To serena, it’s a beautiful reunion of affection. To Bernie it feels new... but lovely all the same. 

They fall into a companionable silence once again, the only sound coming from the body of water before them. Serena is disappointed as she decides the moment has passed. Nothing could prepare her for what comes next. 

“Kiss me Serena...”

“What?”

“Kiss me. Maybe then I’ll remember?”


	17. Chapter 17

Doubts flood Serena’s mind. She wants so much to kiss Bernie... of course she does. But she’s not entirely sure it’s the right thing to do... or indeed that Bernie really wants it... not for the right reasons anyway. 

“Bern. Listen...”

She tries to make her voice sound gentle. 

“I’m not sure that would be a good idea.” 

Bernie can’t help feeling disappointed; rejected even and she struggles to hide it on face. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Bern...” 

She reaches out and touches the ice cold hand that’s resting on the railings before them. 

“Why then?”

Bernie says finally. 

“Why won’t you kiss me?” 

She pulls her hand away then turns her face towards the water, aware that she’s turning scarlet. 

Serena is overcome with guilt. The last thing that she’s ever wanted to do is to hurt this woman; but it seems to happen again and again- a frightening repeating pattern like a cruel trick of fate. 

She’s unsure of what to do next, what to say to improve this increasingly uncomfortable situation. She decides, with some bravery, that her only option is to be honest. 

“Bernie Wolfe? I love you so damn much. I always have... from the moment I set eyes on you I think. Being without you- thinking you were gone has been an unimaginable purgatory. And now I have this second chance, I want to do it right... I don’t want to mess up- like I always have before. You mean the world to me Bern” 

She has way more (now she’s started she can’t stop) but she’s interrupted as soft lips press against her own. Her eyes flutter shut as she lets the other woman take her in her arms, let’s her mind slow and allows the pleasure to take over her. She’s no longer shaking from the cold. She’s shaking with nerves and love and excitement. 

Her heart is in her mouth when Bernie pulls away. 

“So...? Did you? Feel anything?”

She curses herself for asking the question- but couldn’t help herself. She needs to know...

Bernie stutters as she slips her hand into Serena’s. 

“I don’t know love. All I know is that I wanted to do that.... and I’m glad that I did” 

Tears well in Serena’s eyes and struggles to suppress them as they threaten to spill down her burning hot cheeks. She wills with every ounce of her being that Bernie regains her memory but for now; the fact that she wanted to kiss her was enough. 

She turns back towards her, after minutes of silence and pushes her gorgeously wayward fringe back off her face. 

“You’re so beautiful, my Bernie. I’ve missed you so much I can’t even out it into words”

“I’m so sorry I don’t remember...”

Bernie’s words are barely audible as she presses her face into the other woman’s chest. 

“You don’t have anything to apologise for, darling. Let’s start a fresh, hey? Me and you. Would you like that?” 

“Yes... so much” 

And in those words, Serena feels her guilt slip away, along with her sins of the past. Bernie doesn’t remember so neither must she. A fresh start, she decides.


	18. Chapter 18

The women have fallen into a companionable silence by the time they reach Bernie’s cottage. She hadn’t left on any lights so they’re returning to complete darkness and usually this would give Bernie a sad, empty feeling. Not today though. Today she has company. 

She slides the key into the lock and winces as the door creaks open. She really must do something about that, she tells herself. 

“I’m sorry Serena... it’s so cold in here!” 

She turns her attention to the log burner that sits beneath and impressive chimney breast in the sitting room. 

“I haven’t lit a fire for ages but now the autumn is drawing in- I think it might be necessary! If I remember how that is...”

Serena forces a smile. Former Bernie loved nothing more than building a good fire... she remembers a camping trip they went on with Jason; back in the early days of their relationship. Then subsequently a cottage in France; where on both occasions Bernie jokingly claimed to be an expert. Gosh, she’d sit watching the fire for hours, adding logs, poking the flames with a metal stick.

“That’s ok. I noticed some wood outside... shall I go and fetch some” 

Bernie smiles. 

“Thank-you. That would be a great help- if you don’t mind?” 

She crouches on the torn carpet before the hearth, clutching her back and trying to hide a wince. She’s fiddling with a rusty lighter (that was probably once silver) when Serena returns, laden with broken tree branches and misshapen pieces of wood that she’d collected from a pile leant against the wall of the cottage. She’d noticed them on her way in and wondered what their purpose was. 

“I cut down a tree”, 

Bernie utters: as if reading her mind. It was blocking the light from my window and making me feel rather claustrophobic. I borrowed a chainsaw from next door. Sounds crazy but it was incredibly therapeutic!”

Both women laugh. Serena loves it when glimmers of the Bernie she knew shine through and tries her hardest to grasp onto those fleeting moments; to dive into them; to endeavour to bring her back. 

“You once cut down a tree in my back garden. You loved my garden...” 

Serena is wistful now, playing with a strand of hair and starring into nothing, allowing the memory to materialise in her mind and enjoying every moment; though she knows it will pain her so much once it’s faded. 

Bernie is silent for a while and Serena wonders if she’s gone too far. 

“Serena, tell me”,

She replies finally. 

Did your garden have a lavender bush? Did we once sit beside it drinking wine and... chatting? Laughing?” 

Serena’s heart is fit to burst. 

“We did, darling. We did.”


	19. Chapter 19

Serena glances up at the clock on the wall.

9:00. 

She’s been in Bernie’s company for well over 24 hours and she’s grateful for every second. It suddenly dawns on her however that this was meant to be a mere visit. A day trip. Neither one of them has mentioned the prospect of Serena leaving and it’s not something she feels able to contemplate. She’s spent enough time without her, over the past few years. 

She’s loving nothing more than lying on the sofa, sipping wine, telling stories of the past; becoming reacquainted with the woman she loves so dearly. she decides not to broach the subject. Instead, she decides, she’ll just ‘roll with it’. Let things happen naturally. As they always did in the past. 

“Are you hungry?” 

Bernie says suddenly, obviously having noticed the time too. 

“Sorry...I don’t have a great appetite myself and sometimes I just forget...” 

Serena is ravenous. She hasn’t eaten a morsel since the toast they had at breakfast time. This is most unusual for her. Normally, by this time she’s consumed at least three large meals. She watches Bernie intently as she stands, involuntarily clutching her back with one hand, rubbing the over oven an achy hip. She can’t help herself from wondering what horrors she’d faced when she returned to the battle ground. Perhaps in someways, it’s a mercy that her memory has hidden the past. 

“I don’t have a great lot in? Would some soup be ok?” 

Serena nods and smiles... and considers requesting a take away menu. She observes Bernie’s slim frame, moving into the darkened kitchen. It’s clear the woman hasn’t had a proper meal in a very long time. 

“Ah, don’t be cooking. Take the weight off. How about we order a take away?” 

Bernie looks thoughtful. 

“There is a pizza shop in the village. I haven’t ordered since this covid lark started... do you think it’s safe to order food in?” 

“Yes, I’m sure it will be alright.” 

Serena speaks slowly. They’re clearly ignoring the fact only the day before she allowed a woman, who is to her a complete stranger, into her home. 

Sitting together, enjoying a meal is a most enjoyable experience. Serena tries hard to not to eat too quickly; to devour the meal she’a been thinking about for hours. Bernie takes her time with hers; not finishing even half. 

“I’ve really loved today” 

She utters, as she clears away their plates. For the first time since their meeting, Serena is sure she genuinely means it. 

“You’ve made me feel better than I have in as long as I can remember... as long as my memory allows actually!” 

“Me too, Bern. Being back with you is like a dream... A one in a million chance...”

Bernie stops her in her tracks, once again pressing her lips against the other woman’s.

“Take me to bed.”

She says simply, closing the gap between their bodies.


	20. Chapter 20

Bernie lets out a delighted sigh as her head falls back onto the pillow. She has never experienced pleasure like this. Not in as long as she can remember, anyway. 

She gasps as Serena leaves a trail of hot, wet kisses on her abdomen, before bringing her head up to rest on her shoulder. 

“I’ve missed you, Bern” 

She utters, her voice hoarse. 

“And I’ve missed you too. Even when I didn’t know it.” 

Bernie wraps her arms around Serena’s warm, needing, naked body. She presses her lips against her damp forehead, running her fingers fingers through silver locks. 

“Something happened, Serena. While we were making love” 

She takes a deep breath before continuing. 

“I don’t remember facts and names or anything that happened to me before... but I remember the way I felt for you... the way I loved you beyond belief...” 

Tears are pouring down Serena’s cheeks now as she presses her body against Bernie’s, revelling in what she’d just said, revelling in their closeness, in the promise of what’s yet to come. The future she thought was lost, on a battle field thousands of miles away. No words escape her lips, only gasps, as she succumbs to the pleasure between herself legs, as Bernie once again returns her affection. 

Hours later, they’re lying in blissful silence. 

“I’ve never felt a love like the one I do for you sweetheart. Thinking I’d lost you, then getting you back? I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it... not sure I’ll ever stop kissing you!”

Bernie squeals and giggles as Serena pushes her onto her back, peppering kisses onto exposed skin. But her mind is bubbling, making her chest hitch; ruining the pleasure. 

“Bern? Are you alright? Do you want me to stop?”

“No... of course I don’t. Not ever. I just.... Serena? What if I never fully remember who I was? Who you are?” 

Serena signs. She thinks of the Bernie she once knew. She’s here. She’s still Bernie, even if some parts are altered, some parts locked away. She thinks of herself. The mistakes she has made. The times she’s hated herself; the times she’s looked in the mirror and been repulsed by what she sees; scraped at her skin; trying to rid herself of the guilt thats travelled with her since that awful night. But if Bernie has forgotten? Maybe she can too? 

She relaxes into her lover once again as she feels it slipping away. This is her chance to rebuild herself in Bernie’s image. Rebuild their lives together. She knows that it’s wrong... she’s taking advantage of an awful situation and deep down she’d give anything for Bernie to regain her memories. But there’s a glimmer of light now, warming her insides, easing the pain and the guilt. The memories of war and heartbreak have dissolved. Bernie is at peace... why should she want to change that? 

“It’s ok, sweetheart. Don’t you put pressure on yourself. Sometimes the past is best left right there... let’s start again, eh? Me and you? A new beginning. A fresh start?” 

Bernie smiles. There’s nothing she wants more.


	21. Chapter 21

Two months later, Serena along with her little dog Bonnie has moved 100 miles to live with Bernie; who loves them both with all of her heart and treasures every moment of their company. Bernie’s memories of the past have not yet fully returned and slowly, gradually, Serena is learning to leave the past behind too. 

Lockdown has lifted and the women are enjoying their retirement fully now; spending days on the beach, wandering through the forest, pottering around the lovely independent shops in the nearby town. They spend evenings in the tiny, local country pub or curled up on the sofa, drinking wine, watching rubbish TV, chatting and laughing... loving. They are content. Full-filled. 

Bernie has convinced Serena to allow the little black cat to move in too; much to Bonnies horror. They’ll get used to each other soon enough, Bernie promises. 

Serena knows there’s a possibility that one day Bernie might remember her mistakes and that worries her but she’s sure that this time, they’ll survive anything. Communication is open and fee now and their relationship is stronger than either of them could ever imagine.

They’ve found the happy ending they didn’t know existed. 

“This is it. Us. For eternity” 

They promise, each night, before curling into each other and drifting into peaceful slumber.


End file.
